Old man Tuskaya-hiniha was near 'bout blind before de War, and 'bout
time of de War he go plumb blind and have to set on de long seat under
de bresh shelter of de house all de time. Sometime I lead him around
de yard a little, but not very much. Dat about de time all de slave
begin to slip out and run off.
My own pappy was name Stephany. I think he take dat name 'cause when
he little his mammy call him "Istifani." Dat mean a skeleton, and he
was a skinny man. He belong to de Grayson family and I think his
master name George, but I don't know. Dey big people in de Creek, and
with de white folks too. My mammy name was Serena and she belong to
some of de Gouge family. Dey was big people in de Upper Creek, and one
de biggest men of the Gouge was name Hopoethleyoholo for his Creek
name. He was a big man and went to de North in de War and died up in
Kansas, I think. Dey say when he was a little boy he was called
Hopoethli, which mean "good little boy", and when he git grown he make
big speeches and dey stick on de "yoholo." Dat mean "loud whooper."
Dat de way de Creek made de name for young boys when I was a little
girl. When de boy git old enough de big men in de town give him a
name, and sometime later on when he git to going round wid de grown
men dey stick on some more name. If he a good talker dey sometime
stick on "yoholo", and iffen he make lots of jokes dey call him
"Hadjo." If he is a good leader dey call him "Imala" and if he kind of
mean dey sometime call him "fixigo."
My mammy and pappy belong to two masters, but dey live together on a
place. Dat de way de Creek slaves do lots of times. Dey work patches
and give de masters most all dey make, but dey have some for
demselves. Dey didn't have to stay on de master's place and work like
I hear de slaves of de white people and de Cherokee and Choctaw people
say dey had to do.
Maybe my pappy and mammy run off and git free, or maybeso dey buy
demselves out, but anyway dey move away some time and my mammy's
master sell me to old man Tuskaya-hiniha when I was jest a little gal.
All I have to do is stay at de house and mind de baby.
Master had a good log house and a bresh shelter out in front like all
de houses had. Like a gallery, only it had de dirt for de flo' and
bresh for de roof. Dey cook everything out in de yard in big pots, and
dey eat out in de yard too.
Dat was sho' good stuff to eat, and it make you fat too! Roast de
green corn on de ears in de ashes, and scrape off some and fry it!
Grind de dry corn or pound it up and make ash cake. Den bile de
greens--all kinds of greens from out in de woods--and chop up de pork
and de deer meat, or de wild turkey meat; maybe all of dem, in de big
pot at de same time! Fish too, and de big turtle dat lay out on de
bank!
Dey always have a pot full of sofki settin right inside de house, and
anybody eat when dey feel hungry. Anybody come on a visit, always give
'em some of de sofki. Ef dey don't take none de old man git mad, too!
When you make de sofki you pound up de corn real fine, den pour in de
water an dreen it off to git all de little skin from off'n de grain.
Den you let de grits soak and den bile it and let it stand. Sometime
you put in some pounded hickory nut meats. Dat make it real good.
I don't know whar old Master git de cloth for de clothes, less'n he
buy it. Befo' I can remember I think he had some slaves dat weave de
cloth, but when I was dar he git it at de wagon depot at Honey
Springs, I think. He go dar all de time to sell his corn, and he raise
lots of corn, too.
Dat place was on de big road, what we called de road to Texas, but it
go all de way up to de North, too. De traders stop at Honey Springs
and old Master trade corn for what he want. He git some purty checkedy
cloth one time, and everybody git a dress or a shirt made off'n it. I
have dat dress 'till I git too big for it.
Everybody dress up fine when dey is a funeral. Dey take me along to
mind de baby at two-three funerals, but I don't know who it is dat
die. De Creek sho' take on when somebody die!
Long in de night you wake up and hear a gun go off, way off yonder
somewhar. Den it go again, and den again, jest as fast as dey can ram
de load in. Dat mean somebody dead. When somebody die de men go out in
de yard and let de people know dat way. Den dey jest go back in de
house and let de fire go out, and don't even tech de dead person till
somebody git dar what has de right to tech de dead.
When somebody bad sick dey build a fire in de house, even in de
summer, and don't let it die down till dat person git well or die.
When dey die dey let de fire go out.
In de morning everybody dress up fine and go to de house whar de dead
is and stand around in de yard outside de house and don't go in.
Pretty soon along come somebody what got a right to tech and handle de
dead and dey go in. I don't know what give dem de right, but I think
dey has to go through some kind of medicine to git de right, and I
know dey has to drink de red root and purge good before dey tech de
body. When dey git de body ready dey come out and all go to de
graveyard, mostly de family graveyard, right on de place or at some of
the kinfolkses.
When dey git to de grave somebody shoots a gun at de north, den de
west, den de south, and den de east. Iffen dey had four guns dey used
'em.
Den dey put de body down in de grave and put some extra clothes in
with it and some food and a cup of coffee, maybe. Den dey takes strips
of elm bark and lays over de body till it all covered up, and den
throw in de dirt.
When de last dirt throwed on, everybody must clap dey hands and smile,
but you sho hadn't better step on any of de new dirt around de grave,
because it bring sickness right along wid you back to your own house.
Dat what dey said, anyways.
Jest soon as de grave filled up dey built a little shelter over it wid
poles like a pig pen and kiver it over wid elm bark to keep de rain
from soaking down in de new dirt.
Den everybody go back to de house and de family go in and scatter
some kind of medicine 'round de place and build a new fire. Sometime
dey feed everybody befo' dey all leave for home.
Every time dey have a funeral dey always a lot of de people say,
"Didn't you hear de stikini squalling in de night?" "I hear dat
stikini all de night!" De "stikini" is de screech owl, and he suppose
to tell when anybody going to die right soon. I hear lots of Creek
people say dey hear de screech owl close to de house, and sho' nuff
somebody in de family die soon.
When de big battle come at our place at Honey Springs dey jest git
through having de green corn "busk." De green corn was just ripened
enough to eat. It must of been along in July.
Dat busk was jest a little busk. Dey wasn't enough men around to have
a good one. But I seen lots of big ones. Ones whar dey had all de
different kinds of "banga." Dey call all de dances some kind of banga.
De chicken dance is de "Tolosabanga", and de "Istifanibanga" is de one
whar dey make lak dey is skeletons and raw heads coming to git you.
De "Hadjobanga" is de crazy dance, and dat is a funny one. Dey all
dance crazy and make up funny songs to go wid de dance. Everybody
think up funny songs to sing and everybody whoop and laugh all de
time.
But de worse one was de drunk dance. Dey jest dance ever whichaway, de
men and de women together, and dey wrassle and hug and carry on awful!
De good people don't dance dat one. Everybody sing about going to
somebody elses house and sleeping wid dem, and shout, "We is all drunk
and we don't know what we doing and we ain't doing wrong 'cause we is
all drunk" and things like dat. Sometime de bad ones leave and go to
de woods, too!
Dat kind of doing make de good people mad, and sometime dey have
killings about it. When a man catch one his women--maybeso his wife or
one of his daughters--been to de woods he catch her and beat her and
cut off de rim of her ears!
People think maybeso dat ain't so, but I know it is!
I was combing somebody's hair one time--I ain't going tell who--and
when I lift it up off'n her ears I nearly drap dead! Dar de rims cut
right off'n 'em! But she was a married woman, and I think maybeso it
happen when she was a young gal and got into it at one of dem drunk
dances.
Dem Upper Creek took de marrying kind of light anyways. Iffen de
younguns wanted to be man and wife and de old ones didn't care dey
jest went ahead and dat was about all, 'cepting some presents maybe.
But de Baptists changed dat a lot amongst de young ones.
I never forgit de day dat battle of de Civil War happen at Honey
Springs! Old Master jest had de green corn all in, and us had been
having a time gitting it in, too. Jest de women was all dat was left,
'cause de men slaves had all slipped off and left out. My uncle Abe
done got up a bunch and gone to de North wid dem to fight, but I
didn't know den whar he went. He was in dat same battle, and after de
War dey called him Abe Colonel. Most all de slaves 'round dat place
done gone off a long time before dat wid dey masters when dey go wid
old man Gouge and a man named McDaniel.
We had a big tree in de yard, and a grape vine swing in it for de
little baby "Istidji", and I was swinging him real early in de morning
befo' de sun up. De house set in a little patch of woods wid de field
in de back, but all out on de north side was a little open space, like
a kind of prairie. I was swinging de baby, and all at once I seen
somebody riding dis way 'cross dat prairie--jest coming a-kiting and
a-laying flat out on his hoss. When he see de house he begin to give
de war whoop, "Eya-a-a-a-he-ah!" When he git close to de house he
holler to git out de way 'cause dey gwine be a big fight, and old
Master start rapping wid his cane and yelling to git some grub and
blankets in de wagon right now!
We jest leave everything setting right whar it is, 'cepting putting
out de fire and grabbing all de pots and kettles. Some de nigger women
run to git de mules and de wagon and some start gitting meat and corn
out of de place whar we done hid it to keep de scouters from finding
it befo' now. All de time we gitting ready to travel we hear dat boy
on dat horse going on down de big Texas road hollering.
"Eya-a-a-he-he-hah!"
Den jest as we starting to leave here come something across dat little
prairie sho' nuff! We know dey is Indians de way dey is riding, and de
way dey is all strung out. Dey had a flag, and it was all red and had
a big criss-cross on it dat look lak a saw horse. De man carry it and
rear back on it when de wind whip it, but it flap all 'round de
horse's head and de horse pitch and rear lak he know something going
happen, sho!
'Bout dat time it turn kind of dark and begin to rain a little, and we
git out to de big road and de rain come down hard. It rain so hard for
a little while dat we jest have to stop de wagon and set dar, and den
long come more soldiers dan I ever see befo'. Dey all white men, I
think, and dey have on dat brown clothes dyed wid walnut and
butternut, and old Master say dey de Confederate soldiers. Dey
dragging some big guns on wheels and most de men slopping 'long in de
rain on foot.
Den we hear de fighting up to de north 'long about what de river is,
and de guns sound lak hosses loping 'cross a plank bridge way off
somewhar. De head men start hollering and some de hosses start rearing
and de soldiers start trotting faster up de road. We can't git out on
de road so we jest strike off through de prairie and make for a creek
dat got high banks and a place on it we call Rocky Cliff.
We git in a big cave in dat cliff, and spend de whole day and dat
night in dar, and listen to de battle going on.
Dat place was about half-a-mile from de wagon depot at Honey Springs,
and a little east of it. We can hear de guns going all day, and along
in de evening here come de South side making for a getaway. Dey come
riding and running by whar we is, and it don't make no difference how
much de head men hollers at 'em dey can't make dat bunch slow up and
stop.
After while here come de Yankees, right after 'em, and dey goes on
into Honey Springs and pretty soon we see de blaze whar dey is burning
de wagon depot and de houses.
De next morning we goes back to de house and find de soldiers ain't
hurt nothing much. De hogs is whar dey is in de pen and de chickens
come cackling 'round too. Dem soldiers going so fast dey didn't have
no time to stop and take nothing, I reckon.
Den long come lots of de Yankee soldiers going back to de North, and
dey looks purty wore out, but dey is laughing and joshing and going
on.
Old Master pack up de wagon wid everything he can carry den, and we
strike out down de big road to git out de way of any more war, is dey
going be any.
Dat old Texas road jest crowded wid wagons! Everybody doing de same
thing we is, and de rains done made de road so muddy and de soldiers
done tromp up de mud so bad dat de wagons git stuck all de time.
De people all moving along in bunches, and every little while one
bunch of wagons come up wid another bunch all stuck in de mud, and dey
put all de hosses and mules on together and pull em out, and den dey
go on together awhile.
At night dey camp, and de women and what few niggers dey is have to
git de supper in de big pots, and de men so tired dey eat everything
up from de women and de niggers, purty nigh.
After while we come to de Canadian town. Dat whar old man Gouge been
and took a whole lot de folks up north wid him, and de South soldiers
got in dar ahead of us and took up all de houses to sleep in.
Dey was some of de white soldiers camped dar, and dey was singing at
de camp. I couldn't understand what dey sing, and I asked a Creek man
what dey say and he tell me dey sing, "I wish I was in Dixie, look
away--look away."
I ask him whar dat is, and he laugh and talk to de soldiers and dey
all laugh, and make me mad.
De next morning we leave dat town and git to de big river. De rain
make de river rise, and I never see so much water! Jest look out dar
and dar all dat water!
Dey got some boats we put de stuff on, and float de wagons and swim de
mules and finally git across, but it look lak we gwine all drown.
Most de folks say dey going to Boggy Depot and around Fort Washita,
but old Master strike off by hisself and go way down in de bottom
somewhar to live.
I don't know whar it was, but dey been some kind of fighting all
around dar, 'cause we camp in houses and cabins all de time and nobody
live in any of 'em.
Look like de people all git away quick, 'cause all de stuff was in de
houses, but you better scout up around de house before you go up to
it. Liable to be some scouters already in it!
Dem Indian soldiers jest quit de army and lots went scouting in little
bunches and took everything dey find. Iffen somebody try to stop dem
dey git killed.
Sometime we find graves in de yard whar somebody jest been buried
fresh, and one house had some dead people in it when old Mistress poke
her head in it. We git away from dar, and no mistake!
By and by we find a little cabin and stop and stay all de time. I was
de only slave by dat time. All de others done slip out and run off. We
stay dar two year I reckon, 'cause we make two little crop of corn.
For meat a man name Mr. Walker wid us jest went out in de woods and
shoot de wild hogs. De woods was full of dem wild hogs, and lots of
fish in de holes whar he could sicken 'em wid buck root and catch 'em
wid his hands, all we wanted.
I don't know when de War quit off, and when I git free, but I stayed
wid old man Tuskaya-hiniha long time after I was free, I reckon. I was
jest a little girl, and he didn't know whar to send me to, anyways.
One day three men rid up and talk to de old man awhile in English
talk. Den he called me and tell me to go wid dem to find my own
family. He jest laugh and slap my behind and set me up on de hoss in
front of one de men and dey take me off and leave my good checkedy
dress at de house!
Before long we git to dat Canadian river again, and de men tie me on
de hoss so I can't fall off. Dar was all dat water, and dey ain't no
boat, and dey ain't no bridge, and we jest swim de hosses. I knowed
sho' I was going to be gone dat time, but we git across.
When we come to de Creek Agency dar is my pappy and my mammy to claim
me, and I live wid dem in de Verdigris bottom above Fort Gibson till I
was grown and dey is both dead. Den I marries Anderson Davis at Gibson
Station, and we git our allotments on de Verdigris east of Tulsa--kind
of south too, close to de Broken Arrow town.
I knowed old man Jim McHenry at dat Broken Arrow town. He done some
preaching and was a good old man, I think.
I knowed when dey started dat Wealaka school across de river from de
Broken Arrow town. Dey name it for de Wilaki town, but dat town was
way down in de Upper Creek country close to whar I lived when I was a
girl.
I had lots of children, but only two is alive now. My boy Anderson got
in a mess and went to dat McAlester prison, but he got to be a trusty
and dey let him marry a good woman dat got lots of property dar, and
dey living all right now.
When my old man die I come to live here wid Josephine, but I'se blind
and can't see nothing and all de noises pesters me a lot in de town.
And de children is all so ill mannered, too. Dey jest holler at you
all de time! Dey don't mind you neither!
When I could see and had my own younguns I could jest set in de corner
and tell 'em what to do, and iffen dey didn't do it right I could
whack 'em on de head, 'cause dey was raised de old Creek way, and dey
know de old folks know de best!
[Illustration: Anthony Dawson]
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[HR: (photo)]
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
ANTHONY DAWSON
Age 105 yrs.
1008 E. Owen St.,
Tulsa, Okla.
"Run nigger, run,
De Patteroll git you!
Run nigger, run,
De Patteroll come!
"Watch nigger, watch--
De Patteroll trick you!
Watch nigger, watch,
He got a big gun!"
Dat one of the songs de slaves all knowed, and de children down on de
"twenty acres" used to sing it when dey playing in de moonlight 'round
de cabins in de quarters. Sometime I wonder iffen de white folks
didn't make dat song up so us niggers would keep in line.
None of my old Master's boys tried to git away 'cepting two, and dey
met up wid evil, both of 'em.
One of dem niggers was fotching a bull-tongue from a piece of new
ground way at de back of de plantation, and bringing it to my pappy to
git it sharped. My pappy was de blacksmith.
Dis boy got out in de big road to walk in de soft sand, and long come
a wagon wid a white overseer and five, six, niggers going somewhar.
Dey stopped and told dat boy to git in and ride. Dat was de last
anybody seen him.
Dat overseer and another one was cotched after awhile, and showed up
to be underground railroaders. Dey would take a bunch of niggers into
town for some excuse, and on de way jest pick up a extra nigger and
show him whar to go to git on de "railroad system." When de runaway
niggers got to de North dey had to go in de army, and dat boy from our
place got killed. He was a good boy, but dey jest talked him into it.
Dem railroaders was honest, and dey didn't take no presents, but de
patrollers was low white trash!
We all knowed dat if a patroller jest rode right by and didn't say
nothing dat he was doing his honest job, but iffen he stopped his hoss
and talked to a nigger he was after some kind of trade.
Dat other black boy was hoeing cotton way in de back of de field and
de patroller rid up and down de big road, saying nothing to nobody.
De next day another white man was on de job, and long in de evening a
man come by and axed de niggers about de fishing and hunting! Dat
black boy seen he was de same man what was riding de day befo' and he
knowed it was a underground trick. But he didn't see all de trick,
bless God!
We found out afterwards dat he told his mammy about it. She worked at
de big house and she stole something for him to give dat low white
trash I reckon, 'cause de next day he played sick along in de evening
and de black overlooker--he was my uncle--sent him back to de
quarters.
He never did git there, but when dey started de hunt dey found him
about a mile away in de woods wid his head shot off, and old Master
sold his mammy to a trader right away. He never whipped his grown
niggers.
Dat was de way it worked. Dey was all kinds of white folks jest like
dey is now. One man in Sesesh clothes would shoot you if you tried to
run away. Maybe another Sesesh would help slip you out to the
underground and say "God bless you poor black devil", and some of dem
dat was poor would help you if you could bring 'em sumpin you stole,
lak a silver dish or spoons or a couple big hams. I couldn't blame
them poor white folks, wid the men in the War and the women and
children hongry. The niggers didn't belong to them nohow, and they had
to live somehow. But now and then they was a devil on earth, walking
in the sight of God and spreading iniquity before him. He was de
low-down Sesesh dat would take what a poor runaway nigger had to give
for his chance to git away, and den give him 'structions dat would
lead him right into de hands of de patrollers and git him caught or
shot!
Yes, dat's de way it was. Devils and good people walking in de road at
de same time, and nobody could tell one from t'other.
I remember about de trickery so good 'cause I was "grown and out" at
that time. When I was a little boy I was a house boy, 'cause my mammy
was the house woman, but when the war broke I already been sent to the
fields and mammy was still at de house.
I was born on July 25, 1832. I know, 'cause old Master keep de book on
his slaves jest like on his own family. He was a good man, and old
Mistress was de best woman in de world!
De plantation had more than 500 acres and most was in cotton and
tobacco. But we raised corn and oats, and lots of cattle and horses,
and plenty of sheep for wool.
I was born on the plantation, soon after my pappy and mammy was
brought to it. I don't remember whether they was bought or come from
my Mistress's father. He was mighty rich and had several hundred
niggers. When she was married he give her 40 niggers. One of them was
my pappy's brother. His name was John, and he was my master's
overlooker.
We called a white man boss the "overseer", but a nigger was a
overlooker. John could read and write and figger, and old Master
didn't have no white overseer.
Master's name was Levi Dawson, and his plantation was 18 miles east of
Greenville, North Carolina. It was a beautiful place, with all the
fences around the Big House and along the front made out of barked
poles, rider style, and all whitewashed.
The Big House set back from the big road about a quarter of a mile. It
was only one story, but it had lots of rooms.
There was four rooms in a bunch on one side and four in a bunch on the
other, with a wide hall in between. They was made of square adzed
logs, all weatherboarded on the outside and planked up and plastered
on the inside. Then they was a long gallery clean across the front
with big pillars made out of bricks and plastered over. They called it
the passage 'cause it din't have no floor excepting bricks, and a
buggy could drive right under it. Mostly it was used to set under and
talk and play cards and drink the best whiskey old Master could buy.
Back in behind the big house was the kitchen, and the smokehouse in
another place made of plank, and all was whitewashed and painted white
all the time.
Old Mistress was named Miss Susie and she was born an Isley. She
brought 40 niggers from her pappy as a present, and Master Levi jest
had 4 or 5, but he had got all his land from his pappy. She had the
niggers and he had the land. That's the way it was, and that's the way
it stayed! She never let him punish one of her niggers and he never
asked her about buying or selling land. Her pappy was richer than his
pappy, and she was sure quality!
My pappy's name was Anthony, and mammy's name was Chanie. He was the
blacksmith and fixed the wagons, but he couldn't read and figger like
uncle John. Mammy was the head house woman but didn't know any letters
either.
They was both black like me. Old man Isley, where they come from, had
lots of niggers, but I don't think they was off the boat.
You can set the letters up and I can't tell them, but you can't fool
me with the figgers, 'less they are mighty big numbers.
Master Levi had three sons and no daughters. The oldest son was
Simeon. He was in the Sesesh army. The other two boys was too young. I
can't remember their names. They was a lot younger and I was grown and
out befo' they got big.
Old Master was a fine Christian but he like his juleps anyways. He let
us niggers have preachings and prayers, and would give us a parole to
go 10 or 15 miles to a camp meeting and stay two or three days with
nobody but Uncle John to stand for us. Mostly we had white preachers,
but when we had a black preacher that was Heaven.
We didn't have no voodoo women nor conjure folks at our 20 acres. We
all knowed about the Word and the unseen Son of God and we didn't put
no stock in conjure.
Course we had luck charms and good and bad signs, but everybody got
dem things even nowadays. My boy had a white officer in the Big War
and he tells me that man had a li'l old doll tied around his wrist on
a gold chain.
We used herbs and roots for common ailments, like sassafras and
boneset and peach tree poultices and coon root tea, but when a nigger
got bad sick Old Master sent for a white doctor. I remember that old
doctor. He lived in Greenville and he had to come 18 miles in a buggy.
When he give some nigger medicine he would be afraid the nigger was
like lots of them that believed in conjure, and he would say, "If you
don't take that medicine like I tell you and I have to come back here
to see you I going to break your dam black neck next time I come out
here!"
When it was bad weather sometime the black boy sent after him had to
carry a lantern to show him the way back. If that nigger on his mule
got too fur ahead so old doctor couldn't see de light he sho' catch de
devil from that old doctor and from old Master, too, less'n he was one
of old Missy's house niggers, and then old Master jest grumble to
satisfy the doctor.
Down in the quarters we had the spinning house, where the old woman
card the wool and run the loom. They made double weave for the winter
time, and all the white folks and slaves had good clothes and good
food.
Master made us all eat all we could hold. He would come to the
smokehouse and look in and say, "You niggers ain't cutting down that
smoke side and that souse lak you ought to! You made dat meat and you
got to help eat it up!"
Never no work on Sunday 'cepting the regular chores. The overlooker
made everybody clean up and wash de children up and after the praying
we had games. Antny over and marbles and "I Spy" and de likes of that.
Some times de boys would go down in de woods and git a possum. I love
possum and sweet taters, but de coon meat more delicate and de har
don't stink up de meat.
I wasn't at the quarters much as a boy. I was at the big house with my
mammy, and I had to swing the fly bresh over my old Mistress when she
was sewing or eating or taking her nap. Sometime I would keep the
flies off'n old Master, and when I would get tired and let the bresh
slap his neck he would kick at me and cuss me, but he never did reach
me. He had a way of keeping us little niggers scared to death and
never hurting nobody.
I was down in the field burning bresh when I first heard the guns in
the War. De fighting was de battle at Kingston, North Carolina, and it
lasted four days and nights. After while bunches of Sesesh come riding
by hauling wounded people in wagons, and then pretty soon big bunches
of Yankees come by, but dey didn't ack like dey was trying very hard
to ketch up.
Dey had de country in charge quite some time, and they had forages
coming round all the time. By dat time old Master done buried his
money and all de silver and de big clock, but the Yankees didn't pear
to search out dat kind of stuff. All dey ask about was did anybody
find a bottle of brandy!
When de War ended up most all de niggers stay with old Master and work
on de shares, until de land git divided up and sold off and the young
niggers git scattered to town.
I never did have no truck wid de Ku Kluckers, but I had to step mighty
high to keep out'n it! De sho' nuff Kluxes never did bother around us
'cause we minded our own business and never give no trouble.
We wouldn't let no niggers come 'round our place talking 'bout
delegates and voting, and we jest all stayed on the place. But dey was
some low white trash and some devilish niggers made out like dey was
Ku Klux ranging 'round de country stealing hosses and taking things.
Old Master said dey wasn't shore enough, so I reckon he knowed who the
regular ones was.
These bunches that come around robbing got into our neighborhood and
old Master told me I better not have my old horse at the house, 'cause
if I had him they would know nobody had been there stealing and it
wouldn't do no good to hide anything 'cause they would tear up the
place hunting what I had and maybe whip or kill me.
"Your old hoss aint no good, Tony, and you better kill him to make
them think you already been raided on," old Master told me, so I led
him out and knocked him in the head with an axe, and then we hid all
our grub and waited for the Kluckers to come most any night, but they
never did come. I borried a hoss to use in the day and took him back
home every night for about a year.
The niggers kept talking about being free, but they wasn't free then
and they ain't now.
Putting them free jest like putting goat hair on a sheep. When it rain
de goat come a running and git in de shelter, 'cause his hair won't
shed the rain and he git cold, but de sheep ain't got sense enough to
git in the shelter but jest stand out and let it rain on him all day.
But the good Lord fix the sheep up wid a woolly jacket that turn the
water off, and he don't git cold, so he don't have to have no brains.
De nigger during slavery was like de sheep. He couldn't take care of
hisself but his Master looked out for him and he didn't have to use
his brains. De master's protection was like de wooly coat.
But de 'mancipation come and take off de woolly coat and leave de
nigger wid no protection and he cain't take care of hisself either.
When de niggers was sot free lots of them got mighty uppity, and
everybody wanted to be a delegate to something or other. The Yankees
told us we could go down and vote in the 'lections and our color was
good enough to run for anything. Heaps of niggers believed them. You
cain't fault them for that, 'cause they didn't have no better sense,
but I knowed the black folks didn't have no business mixing in until
they knowed more.
It was a long time after the War before I went down to vote and
everything quiet by that time, but I heard people talk about the
fights at the schoolhouse when they had the first election.
I jest stayed on around the old place a long time, and then I got on
another piece of ground and farmed, not far from Greenville until
1900. Then I moved to Hearn, Texas, and stayed with my son Ed until
1903 when we moved to Sapulpa in the Creek Nation. We come to Tulsa
several years ago, and I been living with him ever since.
I can't move off my bed now, but one time I was strong as a young
bull. I raised seven boys and seven girls. My boys was named Edward,
Joseph, Furney, Julius, James, and William, and my girls was Luvenia,
Olivia, Chanie Mamie, Rebecca and Susie.
I always been a deep Christian and depend on God and know his unseen
Son, the King of Glory. I learned about Him when I was a little boy.
Old Master was a good man, but on some of the plantations the masters
wasn't good men and the niggers didn't get the Word.
I never did get no reading and writing 'cause I never did go to the
schools. I thought I was too big, but they had schools and the young
ones went.
But I could figger, and I was a good farmer, and now I bless the Lord
for all his good works. Everybody don't know it I reckon, but we all
needed each other. The blacks needed the whites, and still do.
There's a difference in the color of the skin, but the souls is all
white, or all black, 'pending on the man's life and not on his skin.
The old fashioned meetings is busted up into a thousand different
kinds of churches and only one God to look after them. All is
confusion, but I ain't going to worry my old head about 'em.
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[Date stamp AUG 19 1937]
ALICE DOUGLASS
Age 77 yrs.
Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born December 22, 1860 in Sumner County, Tennessee. My mother--I
mean mammy, 'cause what did we know 'bout mother and mamma. Master and
Mistress made dey chillun call all nigger women, "Black Mammy." Jest
as I was saying my mammy was named Millie Elkins and my pappy was
named Isaac Garrett. My sisters and brothers was Frank, Susie and
Mollie. They is all in Nashville, Tennessee right now. They lived in
log houses. I 'member my grandpappy and when he died. I allus slept in
the Big House in a cradle wid white babies.
We all the time wore cotton dresses and we weaved our own cloth. The
boys jest wore shirts. Some wore shoes, and I sho' did. I kin see 'em
now as they measured my feets to git my shoes. We had doctors to wait
on us iffen we got sick and ailing. We wore asafedida to keep all
diseases offen us.
When a nigger man got ready to marry, he go and tell his master that
they was a woman on sech and sech a farm that he'd lak to have. Iffen
master give his resent, then he go and ask her master and iffen he say
yes, well, they jest jump the broomstick. Mens could jest see their
wives on Sadday nite.
They laid peoples 'cross barrels and whupped 'em wid bull whups till
the blood come. They'd half feed 'em and niggers'd steal food and cook
all night. The things we was forced to do then the whites is doing of
their own free will now. You gotta reap jest what you sow 'cause the
Good Book says it.
They used to bid niggers off and then load 'em on wagons and take 'em
to cotton farms to work. I never seen no cotton till I come heah.
Peoples make big miration 'bout girls having babies at 11 years old.
And you better have them whitefolks some babies iffen you didn't wanta
be sold. Though a funny thing to me is, iffen a nigger woman had a
baby on the boat on the way to the cotton farms, they throwed it in
the river. Taking 'em to them cotton farms is jest the reason niggers
is so plentiful in the South today.
I ain't got no education a'tall. In dem days you better not be caught
with a newspaper, else you got a beating and your back almost cut off.
When niggers got free, whitefolks killed 'em by the carload, 'cause
they said it was a nigger uprising. I used to lay on the flo' with the
whitefolks and hear 'em pass. Them patrollers roved trying to ketch
niggers without passes to whup 'em. They was sometimes called bush
whackers.
We went to white folks' church. I was a great big girl before we went
to cullud church. We'd stay out and play while they worshipped. We
jest played marbles--girls, white chillun and all.
The Yankees come thoo' and took all the meat and everything they could
find. They took horses, food and all. Mammy cooked their vittles. One
come in our cabin and took a sack of dried fruit with my mammy's shoes
on the top. I tried to make 'em leave mammy's shoes too but he didn't.
I stayed in the house with the whitefolks till I was 19. They lak to
kept me in there too long. That's why I'm selfish as I am. Within
three weeks after I was out of the house, I married William Douglass.
Whitefolks now don't want you to tech 'em, and I slept with white
chillun till I was 19. You kin cook for 'em and put your hands in they
vittles and they don't say nothing, but jest you tech one!
We stayed on, on the place, three or four years and it was right then
mammy give us our pappy's name. We moved from the place to one three
or four miles from our master's place, and mammy cooked there a long
time.
Abraham Lincoln gits too much praise. I say, shucks, give God the
praise. Lincoln come thoo' Gallitan, Tennessee and stopped at Hotel
Tavern with his wife. They was dressed jest lak tramps and nobody
knowed it was him and his wife till he got to the White House and
writ back and told 'em to look 'twixt the leaves in the table where he
had set and they sho' nuff found out it was him.